Looking out of the Abyss
by DarthGabithaTheHutt
Summary: All across America, the demons watched the hunters.


xxx

All across America, the demons watched the hunters.

Not all of them, of course. Most hunters wouldn't realise what was going on until it was way too late, and there was no point in watching those who didn't pose a threat. But there were more possible problems wandering around now then there had been twenty-two years ago.

It was a good thing that there were more demons this time, too.

xxx

The demons didn't know everything about the humans they were watching. Most of them didn't care to ask; if Lord Azazel thought you needed to know, then you'd know. Otherwise, asking questions would cause just that little bit more pain when it was your turn to return to the Pit.

The one watching a church in Minnesota was older than most, though. While his sister was off leading the new exorcist on a blood-stained tour of America, he got to watch a priest. It had to be him, of course. The younger demons couldn't even manage to get this close to Holy Ground, never mind slip into the church now and again for a little snooping about.

He cricked his neck and rolled his shoulders. Getting comfortable in a new host's skin was mostly down to luck and time. He'd been in Tom's body for nearly six months now and it still didn't feel right. Meg had managed to find the ideal host within moments of her release. She'd always been good at making a home for herself, even when they'd been human siblings.

Across the small square, the church bell began to ring. Tom stood up, dusted himself down and headed over. He had no intention of attending the service – just because he could walk on Holy Ground didn't mean it was either easy or pleasant – and it was risky to spend too long in a place frequented by Hunters. He just needed to get close enough to let his master get a read on the Pastor and then he could go and rejoin his sister in tormenting Lucian.

_He can summon the dead_, Azazel's voice whispered in the back of his mind. _If he attempts to contact the Winchester girl, we may have to act quickly._

Tom was more than used to this form of communication and didn't so much as twitch, just eyed the Pastor with renewed interest. Even for a human, the guy looked fairly weak, with grey thinning hair and a slim build under his black uniform. Any demon could jump him on the way home and win, or Tom could get in and out of the church, leaving behind one dead holy man, before he started to singe around the edges.

_That will most likely not be necessary. At least, not yet,_ Azazel amended.

Before they got to the big finale, all of these hunters were going to die. These people knew too much, even if they didn't know it. If they figured out what they were planning…

But they wouldn't.

Tom grinned to himself. He could hardly wait.

xxx

Of course, if a demon came across any random hunter, the guy was already dead.

xxx

Chris Lewis had been a hunter for almost ten years. The first demon he'd faced had nearly killed him, but he learnt a lot since then. No matter what that exorcist bitch or her daughter had said, exorcising a demon was not above him.

Besides, there were so many demons around these days that it was practically his duty to help out. He'd found the host, found the right ritual, had everything he needed.

He tightened his grip on the Palo Santo stake and dashed forward into the house.

Twenty minutes later, the thing wearing Chris Lewis' skin walked casually out onto the street. The old host was already dead from blood-loss and shock, so it didn't even have to tie up any loose ends.

The demons smiled, its eyes flashing black for a second. It had always enjoyed the whole sheep's-clothing thing.

xxx

There was probably no one who would connect the hit-and-run on Main Street that morning to the eternal War between Good and Evil. Marcie Newman had been a decent enough person, often helped out at the local school, but she wasn't a saint or a demon.

But the next hunter who passed through in need of a little no-questions-asked medical treatment would just have to limp on through. And keep on limping, because half a dozen medics and healers who knew the best way to treat a Black Dog bite or Harpy scratches were already dead.

xxx

Bobby Singer rolled his eyes when he saw the condition of the box that had been unceremoniously dumped on his front porch. Damned postal service had no idea how fragile some of these books were and if another copy of the _Compendium _got destroyed because of the damp…

But this package had been sent by the Atwood boy and underneath the damp cardboard, it was so well-encircled with tape and plastic that Bobby could hardly get into it. Inside were a few promised books and another one that Bobby couldn't recognise, but Will had good instincts for what was useful, even if he had no idea how to use it. Some of the common texts used in Europe had never made it over to America, but Bobby's collection was getting larger all the time.

He looked up sharply when Rumsfeld barked, scanning the junkyard for any thing out of place. When the dog quieted, settling back down on the hood of his truck, Bobby shook his head, grabbed the package and headed inside.

Behind the rusted wreck of an old Camaro, the teenager with black eyes began to slowly move away. Any attempt to get closer to the house would be ruined by that mangy mutt and he wasn't there to start a fight.

But there hadn't been any sign of John Winchester here and that was troubling. The man was too stupid to back down and too closely connected to the Lord's new favourite. They needed to find him, fast.

A couple of miles from the junkyard, the demon abandoned its host, leaving the dead body at the bottom of a lake.

xxx

Lucy Stanton was stabbed to death during a gig when she was barely seventeen. Her killer was never caught.

Her best friend, who had been less than two feet away at the time, later swore that the killer's eyes were… wrong. No one listened to her, except for Lucy's father, who had been fighting monsters for eighteen years.

He went out in a blaze of glory, fuelled by rage and grief, less than a month later, taking two ghouls with him.

There was more than one way to kill a hunter, after all.

xxx

Hyde's Weaponry, a deceivingly shabby looking shop, was under near-constant demonic surveillance. They sent the young demons there, the ones that were too weak to cause any portents or omens. Too many hunters passed through to risk any sloppiness.

But they managed to identify dozens of hunters just by watching the one building. Every soldier needed ammo and it seemed that Caleb Hyde was the dealer of choice these days. Affordable, reliable and easy to find. Before this year was out, the hunters were going to really regret that last point.

It wasn't until May that they realised how much time the Lucian girl was spending there, and it wasn't during office hours, either.

Getting rid of her might be easier than they'd thought.

xxx

But there were always additions to the ranks of the hunters. The odd survivor, the kid who asked too many questions, the people who lost everything to the dark before they even knew it was there. Not all of them, but some of them. Some of them would choose to fight. Some of them would die fighting. Some of them would do so much good before that day.

And some of them would become the hunters who could walk into hell, who could face down a Hell Lord, who could fight destiny and win.

xxx

Kat finally gave up on convincing her parents of anything even close to the truth, and told them that she wanted to talk a year off before college, take some time to figure out who she was and what she wanted from life.

It wasn't that far from the truth, even if she did have a pretty good idea of what she wanted from this life. She just needed some time to make sure that it was what she really wanted.

She'd spent months on the internet, in the library, even taken a trip to another state in search of more definite information. Kat had seen the effects of salt first-hand, she could trust that. And the EMF meter that she'd got off Ebay worked perfectly. She had a shotgun of her own, given to her by her dad when she'd started spending more time at the shooting range.

And then there was the business card, pressed into her hand by a man called Dean after that night in the Asylum. The white cardboard was now grey and battered from months in her bag, her purse, her pocket, but she could still the read it. Or she'd memorised it, whichever.

_Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard  
__Sioux City, South Dakota  
__712-555-0122_

And written on the back, in quick, messy handwriting:

_In case you still won't pay attention to horror films._

But she had been paying more attention to horror films. They were like a How-Not-to-Survive-For-Ditzy-Blondes. Kat figured that any one of those girls could have come through in one piece if they did anything but just stand around and scream.

So rule one was _no screaming_.

As for the other rules… She'd find them out in South Dakota.

xxx

All across America, the demons watched the hunters.

But the hunters were watching the demons as well. When the final battle started, it wouldn't go the way that Azazel wanted. At least, not entirely.

Of course, it wasn't going to go great for the hunters either, but you couldn't have everything in this life.


End file.
